“Everything okay?” Ross asked.
“Yes. I think everything is fine and thank you for the ride tomorrow. I’m not sure what time the flight is yet.”
“New York? Ross lived in New York for several years. He went to music school there. He could recommend several places for you to stay or eat while you’re there,” Jeff added, obviously very proud of the time Ross had spent in the Big Apple.
“No. I’m sure she has her own plans, Unc,” Ross said slightly embarrassed by his uncle’s comment.
“I didn’t know that,” I said, trying to hide the fact that I had already heard that information from his friends.
Ross called me out. “Terrible poker face. Yes, you did.”
“You got me,” I said, holding up my hands in defeat. “Anyway as soon as I get more information, I will let you know.” I tried to direct the conversation back on track.
“No problem. Let me give you my number so you can just call or text me.”
We spent the next couple of minutes exchanging numbers and finalizing the last of the house renovations with Jeff. After they finally left, I ate a quick breakfast and laid down for a nap.
It was close to six when I woke up from my nap. I tried to check my phone and found that the battery had died at some point during the day. I found the phone charger and plugged it in, letting it charge while I showered and started to pack a bag. My stomach started growling and I made my way down to the kitchen. I opened the fridge to find it mostly empty. The couple of items I did have didn’t appeal to me. I decided to go out and get something to eat in town. I grabbed my phone, turning it on as I headed out the front door where I almost collided with Ross.
“We need to stop meeting like this,” I commented as I straightened myself up.
“Sorry. I hadn’t heard from you yet about the flight and I tried to text you, but you didn’t reply and I was on my way by the house so I decided to stop and ask.”
“Oh, my phone died.” I held up my phone. Just then, a flood of messages came in on it. I glanced through them and saw the text message from Ross, two from Stella, finalizing flights, and an e-mail from US Airlines, confirming my reservation.
“Looks like my flight is at 9 a.m.”—I quickly did the math in my head—“which means we need to leave here at 5:30 a.m … I’m so sorry … You didn’t sign up for that.”
“No problem. It’s exactly what I signed up for.” Ross grinned at me. We stood there for an awkward minute before Ross asked, “Were you going somewhere? You looked like you were in a hurry.”
“Oh, I was on my way to grab something for dinner.”
“Where are you going?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
It still shocked me that he wanted to spend any time with me, but the idea of having company was welcoming.
“That would be great.”
“I know this great local place not too far from here. We could walk.” He pointed out the direction, just down the way.
“I had no idea there was something down there,” I said, shocked by the information.
“Most people don’t. Island secret.” He winked and we started out toward the restaurant, talking the entire way there.
The restaurant was only a couple blocks from my house and sat right on the water. It was painted teal and had a silver metallic roof. A neon sign that read “Rusty’s” hung overhead. A line of people stood by the order window and others milled around, sitting on picnic benches and high-top tables overlooking the ocean. We ordered our meal and sat down at one of the open picnic tables. Everyone who walked by us stopped to talk to Ross.
“You are popular,” I commented at one point between visitors.
“Sorry. My uncle is the only contractor on the island and everyone loves him.”
“Him or you?”
“Him. I’ve been working for him on and off since I was 16. I guess people know me by now.” He brushed his popularity off and we continued our meal.
“That was the best seafood I have ever had on the island,” I said after I cleaned my basket and licked my fingers clean.
“You must have liked it.” Ross laughed as he looked at my empty basket.
“What? I’m a healthy eater,” I said, defending myself.
“Hey Ross! Hey Jill!” a voice shouted behind us.
I turned around to see who could possibly be calling my name. Standing in line at the order counter was Mandy and several other people from the bonfire the other night.
“Incoming,” Ross whispered to me conspiratorially. I moved down the bench to make room for everyone.
“Fancy meeting you at Ross’s favorite place,” Mandy said as she sat down next to Ross. We were joined by Mark, April and another guy whose name, I thought, was Jake.
“Are we interrupting anything?” Mark asked Ross.
“Oh, is this a date?” Mandy blurted out.
“No. It’s not a date,” Ross answered, shaking his head.
I could feel my cheeks go red and I looked down at my empty plate.
“Well, that’s good because I would hate to interrupt anything like that. But it’s about time you started dating again.”
At first I thought Mandy was speaking to me, but when I looked up I saw that she was looking directly at Ross. Perhaps I had missed something earlier, but it looked as if Mandy had a thing for Ross.
“In due time,” he casually replied, stealing a glance in my direction.
“Have you had the ice cream?” April interjected, saving me from an awkward conversation.
“No. I didn’t realize they had ice cream.”
“They are known for their ice cream. You have to have some,” April exclaimed.
And with that, they all launched into a deep discussion about their favorite flavors and how Rusty’s ice cream compared with name brands.
“Ready to go?” Ross asked quietly across the table 20 minutes later. I nodded my head and stood.
“Hey, we are going to have another bonfire tonight on the beach, if you’re interested,” I heard Mark tell Ross.
“I’m not sure I can make it tonight. I’ve got an early morning,” Ross said.
We said our good-byes and were about to head back to the house when I stopped by the order counter. Ross stopped a couple feet ahead when he realized I wasn’t by his side. He turned and gave me a questioning look.
“Ice cream. My treat,” I said very matter-of-factly.
“Ice cream it is,” he said.
After I had ordered a large chocolate waffle cone for myself and a large birthday-cake-flavored cone for Ross, we headed back to the house.
“How do you know all those guys?” I asked once we were finally out of earshot of Rusty’s.
“I’ve known most of them since I was little. My mom and I used to live on the island, not too far from where my uncle lives now, actually.”
“So you have lived here your whole life?”
“No. Shortly after I turned 13, my mom and I packed up and moved to Nashville. I was really into music at that time and my mom figured that I needed to be closer to everything in order to follow my dreams.”
“She sounds like a great mom,” I said, thinking of my own mom.
“She was a great mom.”
“What happened?”
“You don’t already know?” he asked and I blushed at being caught in my little lie.
“Mandy may have mentioned something briefly the other night,” I confessed.
“Shocking,” he replied with a small, sweet smile and I had to stifle a giggle. “Mom got diagnosed with cancer several years ago.” His voice became serious. “By that time we had already lived in Nashville several years and I had just started my freshman year at New York University. She decided to move back here to the island to be closer to my uncle Jeff. They were really close. By my second semester she was much worse. I took the semester off to spend time with her before she died. She made it to the end of summer but made me promise I would go back and finish my degree. So after she passed, I went back to NYU, always coming back in the summers to Oak Island and then eventually finished up my degree. I graduated last May and I moved back down here and I’m staying with my uncle until I figure out what’s next.” He sighed when he was finished, but he wasn’t sad. It just seemed that was the way life was. By this time we were standing on my porch.
“Sounds really similar to the way I lost my mom as well,” I said, telling him about my mom’s own struggle with cancer and her ultimate loss to it. He looked surprised and raised an eyebrow when I was done.
“Do you want to come in?” I asked him, not wanting the conversation to end.
He looked at me and hesitated a moment before finally agreeing.
“Make yourself at home,” I said as we walked in. “I’ll be right back.”
I dashed upstairs to grab a sweatshirt and plug in my phone. When I came back down, he was over by the far wall, examining the photos and books that lined all the shelves.
“Some collection you got here.” He nodded toward the books. I simply nodded in agreement.
“So what do you do?” he asked turning to face me.
“Well, at the moment, nothing actually. I used to be a kindergarten teacher.”
“Did you like it?”
“Loved it but after—” I stopped, suddenly feeling very awkward. Could I discuss my dead husband with my new … friend?
Suddenly, Ross was in front of me. He lifted my chin up so that he could look me straight in the eyes. “I can’t begin to comprehend the loss of a loved one like a husband, but it happened to you. Don’t ever feel the need to hide that. It’s who you are. It’s part of your story.” His voice was very quiet as he spoke. He was so young, yet his words made him seem older and more mature than most people I knew. A single tear slid down my cheek and he reached up and carefully wiped it away.“You don’t have to talk about it.”
“Yes I do.” I sighed as I took a seat on the sofa. “I loved teaching, but after Jay’s accident I just couldn’t go back. That just seemed like part of a life plan that didn’t exist anymore and I couldn’t go back to that school and have everyone look at me and pity me all the time.”
“Makes sense, but now what?” His words echoed my own thoughts.
“That’s a great question. I have no idea.” I shrugged. “Can I fix you a cup of coffee or tea?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Coffee would be great. Doesn’t look like we are going to get much sleep.”
“I don’t usually, anyway.”
I busied myself in the kitchen, making a cup of tea for myself and a cup of coffee for Ross.
“Oh yea, burning the midnight oil and all … do you mind explaining that?” Ross asked. Of course he had remembered.
“It’s nothing really. I just don’t sleep well, alone in the house and all.”
I looked over at him and he could tell my answer was not really an answer. He patiently waited for a better explanation.
“I’m terrified of the dark,” I mumbled.
“You’re what? I couldn’t hear you.”
“I’m scared of the dark,” I mumbled again, clasping my hands over my face.
Slowly he made his way over to my side pulling my hands from my face. I stared into his eyes and he carefully moved a wispy piece of hair back behind my ear. The space between us was electric and I found myself holding my breath.
“I’m almost 30 years old and I sleep with the lights on,” I explained, finally breaking the tension and exhaling.
“You must have a reason,” he said.
Just then, the water began to boil and I turned my attention to fixing our beverages.
“You didn’t laugh.”
“Was I supposed to?”
“I expected you to. I’m sure I would have laughed if Stel—my friends told me that.”
“Explain it to me and I’ll decide if it’s funny or not,” he finally said after several minutes.
“Here. Let’s sit on the sofa and I’ll try.” I motioned for him to sit as I brought over the steaming mugs.
“What’s this?” he asked as he picked up my journal from the floor.
“Oh, it must have fallen off the sofa earlier when I was sleeping.”
Was that really this morning? It seemed to have been ages before that.
“It’s my journal.”
“You’re a writer?”
“Maybe. More like aspiring. Think of it as a possible second career option.” I really didn’t want to talk about the journal or my absurd fear of the dark but something about Ross made me feel comfortable.
“Can I read something?” he asked, still holding the journal.
“No!” I shouted and launched myself across the sofa to grab the journal from him.
“A simple ‘not now’ would have worked,” he said dryly before breaking into a grin.
“Sorry. I just recently started back up again and I don’t know where it’s going, if it’s going anywhere.”
“Maybe someday, then,” he said, picking up the coffee mug and drinking from it.
“Someday.”
“So this fear of yours?” he asked, bringing the conversation back around.
“My mind gets the better of me at night. I hear crazy noises and let myself get freaked out that I might be getting robbed or a serial killer is lurking around the corner. I know it’s highly irrational, but the only way I fall asleep is turning the light on. It also helps with the nightmares.”
“Nightmares?”
“I don’t always realize I am having them, but my friends, Stella and Lanie, told me I have been having them since Jay’s accident. I guess they keep me up at night too. The light just … it helps me see what’s real whereas in the dark I can’t tell where reality ends and my nightmares begin.” I stared out toward the ocean.
“That doesn’t sound crazy. Seems to me like you have a good reason for doing what you’re doing. Does anything help with the nightmares and fear of the dark?”
“With the nightmares? I’m not sure. Lanie—she’s a psychologist—says they are getting better and I just need time. The fear of the dark developed more recently.” I paused not knowing how to explain myself without sounding too insane. “I have never lived alone, never really spent any nights alone, ever, until I moved into this house. I always slept well with others around. I felt safe protected and now for the first time I’m out on my own and I feel vulnerable, exposed. I mean, what if something does happen to me? Who would know?” I dropped my voice to a whisper.
Ross just nodded and reached over and squeezed my hand. Then, to move the attention away from myself, I launched into an assault of questions about Ross. What were his musical tastes? Did he write his own music often? What did he want to do in the future? And with each answer, he surprised me more and more. He seemed more like an old soul than a 22-year-old.